Most people know and can recognise the smell of a dentist. Some people love it. I don't. It's quite hard to describe: there is the obvious mixture of hygiene and spearmint toothpaste but also something else mixed in, almost like a drug to make you nervous.
Dentists have always been a slight phobia of mine. I think the reason for this was that when I was young, we were taught all about teeth and what can happen to them if mistreated. This scared me and scarred me, even though I had perfect teeth and my teacher assured us that we would probably never face the problems she had mentioned. I'm not sure what I was scared of - it wasn't the pain of the potential operations, but something else altogether.
Either way, I am now in a dentist waiting room , surrounded by that familiar yet unfamiliar scent penetrating the air, as well as lots of empty grey chairs and unrealistic posters of naked women with glowing skin and blinding teeth. The woman at the counter scribbles loudly for ten minutes straight while I stare at the mint green wall. I like mint green - it is one one my favourite colours - but in this context, it makes me want to vomit. Eventually, I ask about my appointment and the woman glares at me as if I am not the first client to ask her a polite question during her shift. Apparently there are lots of clients scheduled before me, so it would be "fitting for everyone" if I came back later. I want to refuse. My appointment was half an hour ago. Maybe it's the nervous drug or the sickly mint green walls or the unquestioned authority that the woman holds but somehow I just can't bring myself to argue with her.
After one last glance at the outdated Vogue, Elle and Heat magazines, I struggle with the heavy glass door for a moment. I just about manage to let in a small breeze of fresh air from outside when I hear my name being called distantly. I sigh, yet also panicking slightly. There is always that suspense when the surgeon walks into the waiting room. Will it be me this time? Well, now it is me. My wobbling legs control my my pleading mind as they march forwards down the corridor. Left right. Left. Right. Here goes.
